Dear Mom and Dad,

Thank you. Thank you for every smile, (I’m afraid)

Every meal, every goodnight kiss,

Every laugh, every birthday, (I’m afraid)

Every Christmas, every tear, 

Every fight, every compromise, (I’m afraid)

And thank you for every time you said no.

No to makeup, no to piercings, (I’m afraid)

No to certain clothes, and certain boys,

No to every time I mentioned shaving my head. (I’m afraid)

But most of all, thank you for saying no to letting me go.

One day, I hope to say, (I’m afraid)

Thank you for accepting me for who I really am,

Thank you for loving me no matter my sexuality, (I’m afraid)

For asking me who my new girl or guy of the week is,

Or for not caring about all the labels, (I’m afraid)

Because I am, and will always be, your daughter.

But I’m afraid,

Afraid to come out of the closet only to be shoved back in and the door boarded up

I’m afraid to be told it’s just a phase and I’ll “get over it” when I get into a “real relationship”

Afraid to be told that I am a disgusting f*ggot that should rot in hell for the sin that I am.

Afraid to be exposed to my whole family under the label “that one kid”

I live in the fear that one day your anger will boil over its ever-bubbling pot and lash out on me.

Because of what I am. Because of who I am.

I am afraid.

I am afraid.

I am afraid.

I am AFRAID.

I AM AFRAID.

I don’t know who I am. I don’t know how to stop being someone you are constantly disappointed in. 

I don’t know how to be the perfect daughter in your eyes,

Or how to be straight,

Or girly,

Or conservative,

Or skinny,

Or a traditional woman that cooks and cleans,

Because I am messy.

I am tired.

I am sad,

I am energetic,

I am artistic,

I am confident,

I am weird,

I am chubby,

I am annoying,

I am bisexual,

And I am your daughter.

Dear Mom and Dad,

I hope to one day fit in the image that you want for me

Without having to change me

Or hide my sexuality, style, and rapid mood swings.

Dear Mom and Dad,

Please don’t throw me away.

Please don’t hate me for who I have become

Please don’t be disgusted with me

Because I can’t change, no matter how much you think I can.

I can’t change who I am, or how I think

How I feel about certain people or what I choose to believe in.

Because I don’t know how I could continue living if you disposed of and disowned me

If you hated me and never wanted to see me again.

If you didn’t love me.

Please love me still.

Love me still.

Love ME still.

Because I’m still learning to do it for myself.